When I walked into the yoga studio at my local park district, I didn’t expect to see only 4 other students or a spindly older woman teaching the class. I quickly learned that every other student was repeating the class, and they all knew each other. Feelings of self-consciousness and loneliness overtook me. I set up my mat in silence as the others stretched and whispered quietly to one another.
Apparently my teacher takes the first fifteen minutes at the beginning of a session to have everyone get to know one another, so my loneliness swiftly faded away. After introductions, we jumped right in. I was doing pretty good, until we reached the ab work.
My abs…don’t exist. My belly flab exists though, in plentiful amounts. For a time, I was sure that I couldn’t work on my core, because of my IBS, but recently I’ve seen that I will not die, that my body will not fall apart, that I can get stronger (I know it sounds kind of wackado, but when you have digestive problems, these are very real fears that, for me at least, kept my abs nice and soft). Normally I would have given up; this time I pushed through the pain.
As I held boat pose (Navasana) I shook so bad I thought I was going to pull a muscle. But I kept going, doing every move she asked us to do, with spasms wracking my body. Somehow I made it through.
My assumption going into this class was that my flexibility would be challenged and would gradually improve. I completely forgot about core strength. Maybe in addition to doing this…
…I’ll walk out of class with a set of these.
A girl can dream.